Strictly Temporary
Copyright © Ella Fox 2015
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locations is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior express, written consent of the author.
This book is intended for mature adults only.
ISBN 978–0–9904309–7–1
Cover Design by Sommer Stein with Perfect Pear Creative Covers
Cover Photography by Sara Eirew
Cover Models Jennie Lyne and Philippe Lemire
Editing by Gemma Rowlands
Formatting by Champagne Formats
Table of Contents
dedication
chapter one
chapter two
chapter three
chapter four
chapter five
chapter six
chapter seven
chapter eight
chapter nine
chapter ten
about the author
strictly temporary playlist
acknowledgements
Other books by Ella Fox
To anyone that’s had to deal with small town idiocy. Always remember that small-minded haters tend to congregate together.
Then, at the first available opportunity, get away from that kind of toxic crap.
Change is good. Taking big chances results in big rewards.
I’m living proof.
IT WAS A TYPICAL and uneventful Friday night that found me behind the register at Book Me, Babe. My job at the local bookstore might not have seemed like much to anyone else, but to me it was a great fit. Aside from the obvious—being surrounded by books and people that loved them—the biggest perk was the employee discount. Having been a book addict practically since birth, being able to get twice the number of books for the money was a reason to get excited.
At the time, I was finishing up my second year of college but unlike the other college kids my age, I actually enjoyed working on Friday nights as opposed to doing keg stands and making questionable choices. My grandpa had always claimed that I was an old soul, and I guess the fact that I worked the way I did and avoided awkward social interactions meant that there was some truth to those words. I didn’t feel old, but I also didn’t feel the need to be flat on my back working my way through the football team in order to feel good about myself.
My lack of desire to let loose and go wild like that was absolutely a direct result of having been born, raised and judged in a town that was so uptight that mining for diamonds in someone’s ass cheeks would very likely have born fruit. What made me such a target in the town? The fact that my mom had gotten pregnant by a boy who came to work on one of the town farms one summer. Although there were other pregnant girls in her high school, she was the only one that had made the mistake of carrying on with someone not from Small Towne. That basically earned her a scarlet letter and meant that I was born with one too.
Prejudice and shitty behavior run through Small Towne like a plague so of course I had to hear pretty much every day of my life that I was trash. Bullying is infectious—when no one speaks up or steps in, people get the idea that they should join in. I was an easy target and the kids I went to school with basically saw treating me like shit as a way for them to earn cool points.
After high school I’d moved twenty miles away from Small Towne—yes, that’s really the name of the town, I’m sure you’ve been wondering—and I loved finally being able to relax after having spent eighteen years being talked about, looked at and judged almost every day. Interestingly enough most of the kids that I went to high school with didn’t move on to college and the few that did had gone to State College. I was relieved not to have to see anyone from Small Towne and I flourished.
My mom and I didn’t have what you would call a super close relationship—which isn’t to say that she was abusive, because she wasn’t—but the one thing she had always made sure of was that I knew that there was a life for me outside of Small Towne if I just had the courage to reach for it.
She provided for and took care of me, but she hadn’t been ready to be a mother at sixteen, plain and simple. It wasn’t like we didn’t get along—like I said, she did her best—but I knew what the sacrifice of having me cost her so I always tried to be as low maintenance as possible. In a lot of ways, our relationship was similar to that of sisters.
The one thing that the two of us agreed on was that we both hated living in Small Towne—her more than me, for good reason. When she got pregnant with me and my sperm donor did a runner, it wasn’t like she was overrun with opportunities. Even after she got her G.E.D and had the opportunity to leave, she stayed because that’s where my grandparents lived and they loved having us both there. There were a few times over the years when it seemed like maybe we might move, but then life would happen and that would be that.
There was one time we actually started to pack boxes in preparation for a move. Mom was looking at an apartment for us in Bronson, but then my grandma had passed on and that left my Grandpa Eldon with only us. Moving plans were quickly squashed and we spent nine more years on the farm because he was tied to the farm that he’d been born and raised on.
The farm had been the family business for three generations, but when Grandpa passed away during winter break of my senior year of high school, Mom and I each agreed to sell it without so much as a backward glance. Even though he loved it, Grandpa had known that it wasn’t for us, and he’d given his blessing many times over the years for us to let it go when the time came.
Once I was in college, my mom got busy traveling across the country with her new husband—who also happened to be her former boss, Henry. She’d been working for him in Bronson for years as his housekeeper—because of course no one in Small Towne would hire her for anything—but things changed for them when he was home recovering from knee surgery, and now they were married and on the move, and they were even talking about having a baby or two. Henry was a professional poker player, so he went where the tournaments were. I could barely keep up with them, but I was more than happy to see my mother so happy and in love.
As for me, my way out came in the form of going to college in Bronson, and I was enjoying being far enough away from Small Towne to breathe. My new life might not be setting the world ablaze, but it was the most content I’d ever felt. I was in college at Bronson University and I lived in a dorm with a girl named Heather. For the first time in my life I had a real friend who didn’t drop me like a hot potato whenever the popular kids demanded that it be so. I’d been screwed over by fake friends my entire life, so having Heather was a Godsend. Being away from Small Towne had opened a whole new world to me, and I was so happy I practically skipped through each day.